


Personal Jesus

by Cloudlb



Series: Foot Fetish [1]
Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: AU, Crack, Fetish, First Time, Futurefic, Humor, Kink, M/M, Piercings, don't be afraid of the foot fetish thing really; but Lex does have a thing for shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudlb/pseuds/Cloudlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is a pushy bottom and Lex likes feet.  Things get fruity. Fun, fetish, and kink.  First story in series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Jesus

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first published as a response to the ClexFest Wave 12 music challenge. This version has most of the obvious awkward "songisms" removed, 'cause they bugged me.

Lex always snorted to himself whenever he heard someone ask, "Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus?" Yeah, he sure the hell did. More specifically, he had a personal relationship with Jesus' . . . feet. It wasn't his fault, really.

It started in Sunday School. Like many social climbers, Lionel's family paid lip service to religion, in this case the fundamentally conservative, pseudo-roman Episcopalian church. Lex was placed in Sunday School by his mother, and Lex loathed it with a passion. His mind was formidable even then, and he sat glowering on the bench of the room of the smelly old church and disdained to answer any questions. And his teacher smelled bad. Most of his time there was spent gazing at the stained glass windows. Positioned directly next to his seat was a two-dimensional depiction of Jesus among the little lambs and children. He was wearing a robe, holding a shepherd's crock, and was barefoot. The feet were large and lovingly detailed with creamy glass. Lex spent many hours, half listening to the teacher's strange and conflicting diatribes, staring at those feet. Lex had read the bible already himself, and knew the teacher was mangling it. He was more interested in those feet. They were good feet, weren't they? And Lex believed.

A few other random coincidences fueled the little misconceived connection in Lex's brain. Out on the playground of this Sunday School, he was shocked to learn that all the little kids wanted to talk about was sex. Now, Lex, even at 6, was far from innocent . . . was a Luthor ever? . . . but no one had ever come over to him before and said, "Hey kid, you know what men do? They stick their wieners into girls' vaginas. And the girls like it," before running away snickering. So while he was contemplating his first real images of sex, his eyes kept straying to the luminous glass images of Jesus and the saints . . . all barefoot.

Lex's religious education was unfortunately furthered, at a particularly impressionable age, by endless Chapel congregations at boarding school in the UK. Saying prayers, singing hymns, and listening to school announcements, Lex distracted himself by eyeing the artwork in the Chapel, disturbingly reminiscent of the barefoot Jesus of his memories. Later, in his bed at night, while enthusiastically pumping his young dick, he would think, Why is this happening to me? Because the image in his mind wasn't of some nubile girl on the girls school hockey team; oh, no-it was of a naked man on the cross, unpredictably mutating between the oil painting of Jesus on the cross hanging prominently in the Chapel, his long pale feet pierced with nails and blood glistening darkly; and the image of a young man tied to cross in a corn field, his naked feet hanging just at younger Lex's eye level. And as soon as Lex let him think of the young man's feet, bam! he would come, trying to keep his whimpering down in the crowded dorm room.

And the culmination, the confirmation, the concatenation of little things cementing this association was the being variously known as Clark Kent, Kal-El, or Superman. The first time Lex became aware of this person, he opened his eyes with his back to the earth and looked into the fact of an angel. Just a few minutes before, he'd been dead. Just a few minutes later, he huddled next to a stream bank and gazed at his new acquaintance, noting the wet hair, the troubled expression, and the bare feet peaking out from beneath the blanket. Wow, he remembered thinking as he was still swimming toward rationality, so those are the feet of an angel.

And when he stumbled upon Clark dangling half naked from his own cross later, looking like his world was ending, Lex was simply stunned. He tried not to look as he was helping his friend down. Clark looked like shit and it would be taking advantage, and he really did resist, but . . . holy god, look at those long, long legs, and those feet! So distracted was he with the riveting sight of those perfect feet, that Clark dashed off before he could detain him. But the image of semi-naked Clark suffering on that cross, and the impact of his prominent feet, bare and glowing in the night, remained with him forever. Over the years, the image provided endless material for his fantasies as Clark continued to be his personal savior, and the savior of untold others.

See? Not his fault at all.

Later, Lex indulged his fetish in ways only the rich and powerful could truly get away with. He spent unconscionable amounts of time buying shoes and looking at shoes, from pouring over catalogs and fetish porn, to attending runway shows. He had special private closets built for his collection, bizarrely decorated with priceless religious art interspersed with photos of Clark. He spent many satisfying, sticky hours admiring his prizes under the watchful gazes of his saviors.

Of course, he also spent obscene amounts of money on his own shoes, as well as the rest of his clothes. A man had to look the part, didn't he? He bought exquisitely handmade shoes of premium leather for himself, molded to his feet by Italian craftsmen. He bought his many women as many shoes as they wanted; often going on shoe buying sprees with them, much to their delight.

He was fond of manicures and pedicures, stockings, shoes, nail polish, and just plain bare feet. He kept his own feet exquisitely groomed, even going so far as to sleep in moisturizing booties. Of course, he kept his fingernails groomed well, too. One never knew when one would need to insert fingers in a sensitive part of someone else's anatomy.

He remembered the way he used to try to get Clark out of his shoes. Back when Clark was a teenager and visited regularly, he instituted a "no shoes in the home" policy, ostensibly to keep dust and . . . animal byproducts out of the mansion. Lex always made sure he wore his finest silk socks for the occasion. Clark was forced, more often than not, to bend down, occasionally showing off his firm and fuckable ass while he untied a complicated system of laces on his work boots, took out his feet in their fragrant socks, and slipped across his floor. Lex always had to resist leaning over and deliberately taking a whiff of the boots. The stocking feet did result in some spectacularly fun sock races between him and Clark up and down the halls of the mansion, though, he remembered.

Lex also frequently plied the other man with invitations to swim. That gave him a chance to really take a look at Clark in semi-naked glory. Clark was simply amazing, from head to toe, but Lex continued to be fascinated by those big feet. They were always slightly oversized, even for Clark's tall frame. Lex wondered now if Clark had grown into them. It was so long since they had even exchanged more than a few words, or a card. When was the last time he invited Clark to lunch?

Lex sighed as he looked over the patio at the night lights of Acapulco. Torches illuminated the pool area. Lex could hear bad Mexican techno music in the background as he sighed again, nursing his strawberry margarita over the railing. He resisted wailing to himself about being surrounded by people but so alone--it was too juvenile. But he sighed again just because he could.

The sounds of his guests intruded on his thoughts. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned saw a young man looking at him. Handsome, dark, and slim, the young man approached him slowly. Smiling, he said, "Aren't you enjoying your party, Senor Luthor? Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?" The boy was very close now. Involuntarily, Lex looked down at the shabby shoes on the man's feet.

"No, Pedro, I guess I'm not. Gracias." Enough of this shit, Lex thought. This isn't what I want. Time to get back to work! Lex turned away and headed purposefully to his room. Ignoring the couple fucking on his bed, he pulled out a few necessities and was out of there and back home in a matter of hours.

***

Humming contentedly to himself a few weeks after coming back from Mexico, Lex was happily mixing his new secret vice, strawberry margaritas, on the patio bar next to the pool and clutching his cell phone to his ear. Clad in a loose white shirt and shorts, but barefoot, shifting from one exquisitely manicured foot to the other, he looked relaxed and calm in his desert surroundings as he pulsed the fruit in the blender.

Lex liked his new hideaway much better than the old one. High in the desert in New Mexico, it was all cool tile, warm textiles, and hot spices; sunsets over the pool and the call of desert birds gracing the skies. The air smelled like jasmine, rosemary, mesquite, and pinon as well as, strangely . . . kerosene? Lex made a mental note to check that later. After he talked to Clark.

Lex looked out at the warm summer night air while he waited for Clark to . . . answer . . . his damn . . . com link! "Hello?" finally came the response. Clark sounded harried.

"Clark, are you doing anything excruciatingly important right now? Like saving Mongolia? I'd really like to see you."

"Are you in danger, Lex?" Clark's voice was strange, low and had thunderous overtones.

"No, I'm not in imminent physical harm, nothing like that. But I'd like to speak to you, if not instantly, then urgently."

"All right, where are you?"

"Santa Fe, New Mexico."

"Ill be there as soon as I can." And Clark abruptly hung up. Shit, he really must have been doing something important. Shrugging his shoulders, Lex tossed the phone on the counter and went back to fixing his margaritas.

An hour and 35 minutes later, Lex had eaten a light snack and was lounging by the pool sipping his second strawberry margarita, when he felt a subtle vibration. Or was it a sound? Whatever it was, suddenly Superman appeared before him, hovering gently three feet above the patio. Damn, wasn't that a cool power?

"Is there something wrong, Lex?" Superman's voice sounded hoarse and his uniform the worse for wear, covered in . . . something. Char? brains? other goop? He decided not to look too closely.

"Sorry if I interrupted. Are you done?"

"Yes," Superman's figure relaxed, just a bit, as he floated gracefully to the ground.

"Good. Want a strawberry margarita?" Lex handed Superman a large, hand-blown goblet full of fresh crimson fruit and alcohol.

Caught off-guard, Superman looked momentarily confused. "Uh, thanks. Lex, your urgent business is . . . strawberry margaritas?"

Peremptorily ignoring the superhero's annoyance and confusion, Lex responded airily, "If you're ready to relax, why don't you take a shower and change your clothes. Go ahead and check the closets, Clark. I'm sure there is stuff in there you could wear."

Looking down at the goblet in his hand, Clark unbent enough to take a sip from the straw. "But strawberry margaritas, Lex? Aren't they a little . . . fruity?"

"A recent addiction." He ran his eyes over Clark's elaborate ensemble and manfully held his tongue. "Go on. I'll be waiting." As Clark hurried toward the inside of the house, the last thing Lex noticed was the way the cape swirled around those long, shiny, red boots.

Later, as they lay on the patio sipping their drinks, Les looked at Clark lounging next to him. He took in the stunning amount of golden skin on display in the candlelight and dim glow of the pool. Without a shirt, dressed only in loose black shorts, the depth and breadth of Clark's shoulders and chest thus revealed were amazing. Clark's physique was sharply defined by his slim hips, but there was solid muscle distributed sweetly down his body. Clark's body was long enough to counterbalance the massiveness of his muscles, making him look well-proportioned. Lex's eyes traveled southwards to Clark's crotch, pleasingly outlined in the shorts he was wearing, down past luscious, long thighs to sturdy calves, and .. .

"Lex," he was interrupted in his perusal by Clark. "Are you staring at my feet?" Clark sounded outraged, but when Lex dared a look, he saw only amusement and, whoa . . . lust, and . . .

Suddenly, Clark turned on his side, propping his elbow up. He reached for a bowl between them which held fruit, and picked up a guava. "Go ahead. Look. You're certainly entitled." Clark continued, after sinking his white teeth deep into the fruit, his voice very low, "I want you to look."

Laying his drink aside, Lex shifted on his chaise, so that his position mirrored Clark's, and let himself look his fill. He knew his friend's countenance as well as his own, but had never had the opportunity to just gaze at the little details without fear of reprisal. Clark's eyes appeared inky black in the dim light. His hair was a little bit long, and shiny, and when Clark raised his arm up to take another bite of the fruit, posing for him, he revealed an enticing nest of armpit hair surrounded by bulging muscle. Lex longed to plunge his face into the furry hollow, only to make his way to the large, well- defined nipples calling him from inches away.

Clark's chest was flushed, and the sizable brown nipples were peaked. Clark shifted a little, and cleared his throat, and in a low tone, stated, "Only you get this, Lex. I really like it when you look at me. But I'm much more used to hiding my body when I can. Don't attract attention, my folks always said." After a short pause, he continued, rather sharply, "Except I do. I wish people wouldn't stare at me so! I can't be the only tall guy they've ever seen!"

Lex shook his head in disbelief. Clark really had no idea what people saw in him. It wasn't just the height; it was the grace, the presence, the . . . nifty red boots. "For a guy who doesn't want to attract attention you sure do dress funny, sometimes. Do you know they show pictures of Superman in his oh-so-revealing costume in high school anatomy classes to illustrate body parts? Or maybe you're just an exhibitionist." He watched his companion closely, observing him stiffen slightly and snort. Was that a hit?

"Well, that's ironic. Using one species to teach another's anatomy." Clark's tone was rather bitter.

Lex was appalled. "Clark, don't you know how fucking beautiful you are!" He heard his own voice go hoarse.

"I'm sorry, Lex, I have been feeling so--alone lately . . ." Clark sounded embarrassed to be uttering such things.

"I know the feeling. I was surrounded by people, yet completely alone." Both young men lay back in the clear desert air and remained silent for a few minutes, digesting these revelations. A mockingbird called raucously in the night.

"This is nice up here, Lex . . ."

"I'm glad you came." Their voices rushed over one another's, and they both broke off, smiling.

After a moment, Lex murmured, "I like knowing that you care. That you would hear me and come to me, no matter what. That you're there for me."

Looking straight into Lex's eyes, Clark said. "You can bet on that."

"I have faith in you," Lex nodded, seriously.

Lex allowed his eyes to move lower again. Clark's cock was filling out his shorts, and made an appreciable bulge in the black material. It moved slightly under Lex's gaze. Maybe what Lex had mentioned earlier about being an exhibitionist wasn't far off the mark. Lex thought Clark had protested too quickly. Hmm, that had possibilities . . .

Apart from the general size and configuration, Lex had never actually seen Clark's dick, not in all the years of friendship, and he had to admit, he was dying to get his hands around that piece of meat. He bet it tasted better than any fancy steak and seafood dinner. Just right now, Clark looked all grown up and as powerful as he ever seen him. Clark was the epitome of his dreams. His very own poster-perfect porn.

"Can I ask you something?" Lex ventured.

"Sure."

"Do you like girls?"

Clark laughed genuinely, and smiled teasingly, rubbing his legs and feet together while watching Lex's reaction. "Yes, Lex, I like girls. So do you, if I recall. Six wives, at last count, wasn't it?"

Lex scowled. Clark knew very well there had been seven. Some were dead. Some were just gone, and a couple he was even still friends with, but . . .

"You never liked any of my wives, did you?"

Throwing the remains of the guava over his shoulder into the bushes, Clark scoffed, "You should know why, by now. I'm only grateful that after a while you took them off to parts unknown and married them away from my sight and didn't require my presence."

Lex closed his eyes briefly, and took a few deep breaths, unaware that Clark's eyes were zeroed in on his chest while he was doing so. "Why didn't you say anything?" he eventually breathed.

Making an exasperated noise, Clark exhaled. Lex opened his eyes in time to see Clark's chest heave interestingly, and receive a blast of strawberry and guava scented air which tickled his eyebrows.

"Maybe I thought it was a phase. Or maybe I understood because I like girls, too, Lex. They're safe, they smell good, and they have boobs. Lap dances rock." He paused a moment, then continued more earnestly. "But Lex, I have to get something off my chest. For me . . . " Unsure how to express himself, Clark tried again, "No one even comes close to first. It's always been you."

Lex felt a balloon of heat and warmth bloom in his chest, rapidly descend downward, and hit his cock like a thermonuclear bomb. Finally, he allowed himself a look at Clark's feet. Size 18 wide (of course he knew Clark's shoe size.) They were as perfectly formed as the rest of him. The skin was light honey toned, and smooth, with no calluses anywhere, even on the bottoms of Clark's feet. The nail beds were shapely and even, and the nails perfectly trimmed. Even Lex's nails didn't compare. He wondered how those smooth soles would feel imprisoning his cock, torturing it with the slip and slide of those gorgeous feet. He took a deep breath.

"All those wives? They were always second best for me, too. Now, I have my own confession," he began nervously. Oh well, in for a penny. I hope you can forgive me.

As if Clark read his mind, he heard, "Try me. I'm a forgiver."

"I know. I, just-- really like your feet."

As soon as this statement left Lex's lips, his horizon changed, his vision instantly occluded by the bulk of his companion, his mouth being kissed into bliss by a large, heavy, horny alien, suddenly sharing his chaise with him.

"So, Lex, you like my feet, do you," Clark whispered between kisses and little grunts as he pushed himself less than subtly against Lex. "Well, I like yours, too. And the rest of you. Wanted to taste you," he mumbled, "wanted to . . ." Clark abruptly sat up and ripped Lex's shirt straight off him in an instant. He exclaimed loudly, "Wanted to know what the fuck was under there! What have you done to yourself?"

Clark stared intently as Lex's chest was exposed. His nipples were revealed, and they were pierced by two barbells apiece, positioned in a cross position, one barbell behind the other. The barbells were straight, and colored a rich, deep purple-blue, with sparkling diamonds recessed in the heads. Clark ran his hand slowly down the center of Lex's chest to his navel, and fingered it and the rather large purple and diamond ring he found there.

"Do you know what you did to me when you first started to get these damn things?" Clark demanded.

Lex giggled to himself (not that he would ever admit to such a thing) at the memory. Lex got the first set of nipple piercings at the same time as the navel, and the first time he met up with Clark after that he was the recipient of the most classic double take he'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. What made it funnier at the time was that Clark was Superman at the time, and was in the middle of berating Lex for some imagined transgression or other. Lex did laugh when he remembered the priceless expression on his friend's face as he used his x-ray vision, and the way Superman hastily stiffened and departed the scene.

"You think it's funny? I walked around with a hard-on for months, Lex. Months! Because I couldn't get the image of those piercings out of my head." Maybe Clark was trying to pout, but his closeness and the way he continued to fondle Lex's chest and move his lower body rhythmically against him was distracting.

Smirking just a little, Lex commented, "Serves you right for looking."

"I was checking for injuries!" Clark protested immediately, but when they looked into each others' eyes, it was too funny for a moment and they just cracked up. A lot of the tension went out of them, and they lay gasping out laughter for quite a while. God, Lex loved it when he could laugh with a lover. And Clark wasn't just a lover, was he?

Clark's eyes went serious though, as soon as the laughter died down. "Then, when you showed up with . . ." Clark growled and quickly reached for Lex's waist, untying the shorts, and slipping them down off Lex's hips, jerking in his haste. Clark's expression turned to stunned awe as he gazed at Lex's dick, which was straight and long and strong, rising from a smooth groin, and crowned at the tip with a curved purple barbell pierced through the tip, complete with diamonds, peaking out of the foreskin. Reaching for it, Clark asked, "What . . .? " he didn't know what to say.

"It's called a Prince Albert piercing." Lex grasped the tip, skinning back the foreskin gently and fondled the tip between the two balls on either side of the piercing with his fingers. "See, the top comes out the urethra. It makes pissing a bit interesting, but it has its perks. It's really a very easy piercing and quite common now."

"Prince Albert? You mean Queen Victoria's husband? I heard a rumor about this that, because of the fashions of the day . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Lex interrupted, "Prince Albert used his to tie his dick away. Not true, Clark. Completely made up. Don't believe it."

Although Clark was tilting his head skeptically, clearly his attention was focused somewhere else. He bent slowly, inhaling, and, burying his nose in Lex's crotch, noshing on his cock, and taking little licks in the groin area, conveniently exposed by Lex's hairless state. Clark looked up from his task, just to double-check. To make sure, probably, that he was really wanted.

"Yes, Clark, please," Lex hastily and sincerely guaranteed.

Clark stood up and shed his own clothes and when they were both completely naked, pulled Lex and him to a kneeling position on the chaise, attacking his mouth again. Lex ran his hands up and down Clark's amazing back and ass, as he listened to Clark's low running monologue, issued between well-calculated bites on Lex's neck and torso. "Love you, Lex, always have and everyone one else is second best, God, I want to suck you, wanna taste and smell and have you fill me up so far . . . wanna tease you and love you and be yours forever. " Lex groaned as Clark took the palms of his hands and gently pinched Lex's prominent nipples, complete with the barbells. "You like that?" Clark questioned, panting, aroused. "It doesn't hurt?"

"No, no, it doesn't hurt. It feels good. The jewelry makes things more sensitive."

Clark pushed on Lex's shoulders and pressed him down to one side. No trace of amusement was left on Clark's face as he angled his body over Lex's, just confidence, anticipation, and . . . heat. A lot of it, blazing briefly before Clark homed in on his prize and dove his mouth down Lex's succulent cock. Pulling himself off with a pop, Clark remarked, looking down at Lex. "I love your cock, it's so fine." Clark squeezed with one hand as he played with the piercing and the foreskin of Lex's member. "Why aren't you circumcised?"

"Well, why are you?" Lex countered.

"Uh, I'm not actually. Kryptonians lack the foreskin; we don't have appendixes either. Instead, we are equipped with a ridge all the way around," Clark shifted about on the couch, "which is very sensitive and has some loose tissue to encourage friction. Here, why don't you see for yourself," he said, more demandingly than suggestively, and he proceeded to turn his body so that his cock and balls were hanging right in front of Lex's face.

Lex was riveted by the sight, only distracted by the resumption of the heat and wet that was Clark's mouth at his groin. What was he waiting for? Reaching out with his hands and his mouth, he grabbed Clark's thick, straight meat with its curious ring around the tip, and entered into the mutual fellatio with gusto. Clark's balls were heavy, golden, and potent, surprisingly hairless, and redolent with sex and Clark. Lex inhaled happily as he maneuvered his mouth to the best position he could and went down on his beloved friend.

Lex bent himself to the task of pleasuring Clark, and slurped, sucked, and bit every piece of real estate he could find in front of his face. From the feel of things, and Clark's cautious but enthusiastic pumping, it wouldn't be long, so Lex wet his fingers as best as he could, and moved then around to Clark's pumping, pulsating ass. Inserting two fingers directly around Clark's asshole made Clark pause, groan like a felled calf, and just . . . twitch his ass, hard, down onto Lex's fingers. As soon as he did that, he started erupting in Lex's mouth. Lex held on for all he was worth, and swallowed and gulped Clark's come as if it were the most precious fluid ever created, savoring both the taste and the little, "Unh. Unh" sounds Clark was making.

As soon as Clark had filled his mouth with cum, and then some, Clark pulled off Lex's cock and pleaded, "Lex, Oh, Lex, that was so fantastic! God . . . I gotta have you fuck me. Please!" He disengaged and turned himself around so he was once again face to face, kissing him passionately and writhing against him.

Reaching down Clark's ample back, Lex affixed his hands on the solid slabs of muscle Clark called his ass, kneading them and feathering his hands along the crack. Clark, who was usually so physically calm, was now sweating, heaving, and panting . . . . Oh, my. Lex was abruptly conscious of his own throbbing, unsatisfied cock. "Clark, my bedroom . . . , " he choked out. "How fast can you get us there?" Clark just grinned at him, and then . . .

Whoa! that was different! After a disorienting . . . something; he couldn't even call it a whoosh . . . he realized he was indeed in his bedroom, dimly lit by the light of the moon and the bathroom light, in his bed, with Clark plastered all over him, his cock like a bar or steel drilling and drooling into stomach. Clark moved his body sensually over his, rubbing his cock on Lex's nipple piercings, and down to the navel, and down against his own . . . ooh, it felt so good. He could just keep doing this . . .

Clark drew back. "No. Fuck me! Please," he amended, staring into Lex's eyes.

"Jesus, you're a demanding slut, babe, you know that."

Clark's eyes flashed impishly, but he merely said, "It's just that I've been waiting so long. Fifteen years, Lex, while we shilly-shally around each other, and I could have had your cock up my ass all this time! So get to it."

Lex raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips to keep from laughing. "Shilly-shallying around, is that what we were doing, hmmm? And you're a pushy bottom," but Lex was grinning, and reached into a box behind the bed for condoms and lube. "Lie on your back," he directed softly, and took a moment to admire Clark lying naked in his bed. Usually it was the sunlight which flattered Clark, but, Lex decided, moonlight wasn't too shabby with her favors either.

Clark half sat up and grabbed the lube. "No, Lex, no condoms, not this time, our first time. We don't really need them." And Clark's hands lost no time, but were busily fingering himself, opening his own hole for Lex, as he arched up and applied lube. He quickly reached for Lex's erect cock, with its shiny head plumped up against the foreskin, and the shiny barbell aimed at Clark's hole.

All at once, Lex found himself plunged into tightness and heat before he was quite ready, Clark clutching him hard into the center of his body. "Wait, Clark," he gasped out, willing himself not to just spill into this incredible body, this incredible man. "You've got to know--you're my one and only, always, you've got to know." Gotta get the important stuff out.

Clark looked him in the eye as he clapped his slippery, fragrant hand over Lex's mouth. Lex rolled his eyes and tasted the palm, and Clark shuddered dangerously. But Clark just shook his head and said, "I know."

Lex broke free of Clark's grip (with Clark's contrivance) and simply said, "I love you."

Clark's smile was broad, but impatient. "Great, Lex, now will you please move and fuck me, damnit!" Clark surged upward.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you all right," Lex began dangerously. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard we're gonna be fused to the bed." Lex grabbed Clark's hips and slid a pillow underneath the bed, and squirted a little more lube randomly over where they were joined.

Now wasn't that a fucking fetching site, Lex thought. Clark was playing with their nipples, one hand on his own nipple, rubbing it and his chest, the other hand running his hands over Lex. He appeared fascinated with Lex's piercings, playing with the jewelry. "God, Lex, these are so fucking hot."

The sight of Clark fondling them, his thick juicy cock quivering over his balls, was driving Lex crazy, and he stopped thinking, instead just concentrating on fucking Clark, on the place where they joined so perfectly. Mostly ignoring Clark's whispered monologue of "Oh, Lex, yes, yes, harder, harder, oh, fuck me . . ." he applied himself, grunting and gasping as he pounded into Clark, reveling in the freedom to fuck as hard as he could. He set the jewelry at the tip of his cock to finding Clark's prostate.

"Finally, goddamn it, you're mine," Lex growled, and either the sentiment or the battering ram he was using must have hit the spot, because Clark responded by clutching him, both inside and out, and shrieking, "Yes!" loud enough to hurt Lex's ear drums. Clark contorted himself, and bringing his feet up by Lex's ears, began caressing the bare skull with his feet. Lex emitted a final, surprised gasp before snapping his hips and pulsing, hard, in Clark's body. His last image before blacking out was the sight of Clark handling his own cock frantically, in a motion Lex hoped he could remember for further reference. His last sensation was being anointed, by Clark's wet, hot, copious seed, as his own dick delivering a powerful aftershock from deep inside Clark's ass.

So much later in the evening that it was truly early morning, he and Clark cuddled naked on the bed. Both men were aroused, neither was in a hurry, after Lex had fucked Clark again in the gigantic rock steam shower. They were drinking champagne, with strawberries (left over from the margaritas), and were covered with a white cotton sheet. A gas fireplace was on in the corner. The desert got a little chilly, even in summer, at night. But Lex wasn't cold as he sighed contentedly and put down his glass. Lex used his feet to run them down Clark's legs and feet, rubbing his lower body and legs sensually together. His feet brushed the heavy silver-colored anklet that he had given Clark, in hope, years ago. He remembered having it specially made for Clark from titanium, by the jewelry who would later design Lex's titanium body jewelry.

Clark pulled his foot out and admired the anklet. Lex admired the muscular calf, trim ankle, and perfect foot, too. The anklet looked damn good on Clark's strong ankle, Lex thought.

"I've always worn it, since you gave it to me. I've never taken it off," said Clark softly.

Lex was thrilled . . . and annoyed. "You never said anything."

Clark protested. "I did too. I said thank you."

"But surely you realized . . . "

"Lex, I accepted the gift in the spirit in which it was given, but your timing was off. Unusual for you, I know, but . . . .That was right around the time I was graduating, and starting the, well, you know."

"Costumed superhero thing?" Lex's voice was dry.

"Yeah, that." This close to Clark, it was impossible for feelings to be mistaken, and Clark continued with a plea in his eyes. "I was busy constantly, both working at my day job, and building a persona. And saving lives. It was hard, especially at first, Lex, and I needed to concentrate. I was dealing with people's lives, and couldn't afford to make a mistake. And you're too distracting!"

"Okay, so what about now?" broke in Lex.

"What about now? Oh, you mean, what's different? Well . . . " Clark thought a minute, then responded. "Things have gotten easier. I don't have to work so hard on the persona any more--it's second nature. I quit that dismal job at the Daily Planet. It was drawing too much attention to me and Lois wasn't helping. Now that I freelance I'm much more in charge of my time and don't have to constantly worry about making stupid excuses to people. Plus, I've gotten help."

"From the Justice League."

"Yes, knowing Batman and Wonder Woman and the others are there to handle emergencies or take up the slack is an enormous relief for me. So, I got to thinking, maybe I could afford to be a little distracted. On occasion," Clark's voice got lower and a bit of the shy boy that he used to be surfaced. "And . . . I was tired of being alone. I'm so glad you called. You're so smart, and beautiful, and wise, and sexy, and mine now . .." Clark's voice trailed off as he sketched kisses along Lex's neck.

"Do you . . . ." Lex hesitated minutely, trying to avoid the temptation inherent in the caresses. "Do you want to hide our relationship? It would subject you to less scrutiny."

Clark stopped worrying Lex's anatomy and looked up. "No, Lex, I don't want to hide it. But maybe we could put off advertising it for a teeny bit. I don't mean denying it, us," Clark's tone and face were earnest. "I mean not sharing. I'm almost 30. Too old to be hiding who I am." Clark's face crumpled, just a bit. "Oh, hell, you know what I mean."

"Shhh, yes, caro, I know." Lex cooed, running his hands over Clark's head. As much as Clark seemed to like Lex's bald head, Lex adored Clark's more. As well as the rest of him. And, well, of course, there were the . . . feet. Lex drifted off for a moment, struck with inspiration, until Clark gently jostled him.

"What are you thinking?" Clark sounded suspicious. "I know that look!"

Lex's focus snapped back to Clark. Continuing to fondle Clark's hair and ears, he responded, slowly, "Clark, your birthday is in five weeks. The big 3-0. Do you think you would be ready to appear in public with me then, say, in Las Vegas?" Lex's tone was sly, the voice he primarily used when negotiating multi-million dollar deals.

Clark grinned at him. "Just what are you planning?"

"Las Vegas is fun, Clark." Lex wheedled. "Music, gambling, dancing, women . . . " Lex paused, then resumed, "Well, maybe not the women. We don't need them." Nuzzling Clark's Chest to distract him, Lex continued, "They have the most fabulous shopping, and . . . " Lex paused again for effect, and continued more rapidly, "The International Fashion Shoe annual convention and exposition will be there that week. It's fantastic," Lex's eyes began to brighten and glaze over as he described the designers and events. "All the preeminent shoe designers, foot models, they have awards . . . "

Suddenly, he felt Clark's huge arms enveloping him tightly, and his world turned to thunder as it shook. Burrowing his way out of Clark's embrace, he peeked out at laughing eyes. Clark said, "It's a date then!"

"Good." And Lex burrowed back, until he was totally relaxed and comfortable against Clark. As he drifted off to his own personal heaven with his own personal barefooted savior, he murmured very softly, "There's just one more thing. About those red boots . . . Can you bring them to Vegas with you?"

Fin.


End file.
